


These Things

by ElizabethWilde



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Angst, PWP, Sexual Content, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-10
Updated: 2003-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethWilde/pseuds/ElizabethWilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange dreams help Wes & Connor find each other again.</p><p>Song used is "These Things" by Fuel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Things

~Seems so strange it'd be so easy now  
But I've got this faith to blind me  
And I've got these dreams we shared  
And I have the fear that dreams are all I'll have that's left to me~

Connor often dreamed.

He saw violent things, tasted blood and smelled the stench of death. He enjoyed it.When the young man woke, he felt shaken and uneasy. His family felt like strangers. Memories of his childhood seemed like happy lies, snippets of someone else's life.

By the end of the day, he felt better. Piles of homework and useless conversation with friends and family made life normal again. The out-of-place, awkward vibrations drained away for a time.

But Connor still dreamed.

In sleep he felt the soft hands of the man with blue eyes. His body trembled, and he begged. He pleaded with the man for more and cried out with each gentle thrust. He needed things he never imagined wanting during the day.

He woke hard and aching and yearned for a warm body curled against his.

The desire never really left. It ebbed during the day only to flow back full force at night. 

Connor lived for dreams. In dreams, he felt alive.

=------------------------------=

"New..."

"Yes." The man with the blue eyes stared back calmly, though something in his gaze awoke half-memories of bedroom whispers. "Mr. Thatcher has retired, and they needed a replacement. I was lucky enough to get the position."

"Oh." Connor stared blankly at the man. Recognition sparked in the boy's mind. "I know you. I... I had a dream..." At the very thought, Connor felt his cock twitch and a warm blush spread over his cheeks.

"I've had them too." The school's new librarian stepped out from behind his desk. "I don't understand it, but when I saw you... no, before... I knew I needed to come here." His fingers clenched as if aching to touch the boy. "My name is Wesley. I... It wouldn't feel right, your calling me Mr. Pryce, not after..."

Connor ducked his head, heart pounding. "I need a... a book. For history."

After a brief pause, Wesley nodded. "Of course."

=------------------------------=

The dreams grew more frequent. Each day Connor awoke with a dripping cock and images of the librarian in his mind's eye. Connor knew the man's touch but avoided him during the day, certain that he was losing his mind.

The library became anathema to him. It frightened Connor, these memories of a life he'd forgotten. That Mr. Pryce knew as well, somehow shared the same secret, scared him more. Every day the urge to run into the library and beg his dream lover to give him everything, to help him remember, grew. If he did it, Connor reasoned, the desire would go away.

Instead he stood in the bathroom jerking off feverishly. The stall provided only passing privacy, but Connor knew better than to think he would survive another class without release. Just as his legs threatened to give out, Connor heard the door open. He hurried his movements, hips jerking as he climaxed. The smell of sex filled the stall, and Connor hastily cleaned up. 

Stepping back out into the room, he almost ran into a much larger form. Connor's heart leapt into his throat. "M-Mr. Pryce... I..."

Before he managed a real explanation, Wesley pushed him back into the stall. With the door shut and locked behind them, his lips found Connor's, ravaging them mercilessly. As the man fumbled to unfasten Connor's pants, he mumbled, "Forgive me. God forgive me..." Soon on his knees, Wesley found the boy's recently-spent cock and sucked it gently.

Connor moaned helplessly as he came to full attention once more. His over-sensitive length throbbed with each slow drag of Wesley's tongue, and soon bitter cum spilled into the man's mouth.

After drinking every drop, Wesley rose and unfastened his own pants. "Please," he begged hoarsely, pulling one of Connor's limp hands closer, "touch me, Connor. I need it." He tensed and shuddered as Connor finally touched him. "Yes... god... don't stop." The man's hips pumped forward into Connor's grip, and he soon found release, spurting length coating Connor's hand in sticky fluid. As coherency returned, Wesley's cheeks burned with shame. "I'm... I'm sorry. We shouldn't... I shouldn't have..."

Wiping his hand clean with a wad of toilet paper, Connor shook his head. "I... earlier, I was thinking about you. I wanted it."

"But you're a child-"

"I'm seventeen!" It had been bare weeks since his birthday, but "child" hardly seemed like a fair assessment of his maturity. "I know we've... we've been together before anyway. I... remember... what it's like... what it's like having... having you inside me."

Wesley's mouth went dry, and he tried to speak. "You should be in class." The bell rang, confirming the words. Quickly the man exited the stall. He washed his hands carefully and watched Connor mimic the gesture. "Meet me in the library after school. We need to discuss this."

=------------------------------=

"You need to come back to L.A."

"Angel, I don't see why you're so worried about where I am. You have teams of researchers at your beck and call." Wesley pushed his glasses up hard on his nose. "I need to understand-"

"You aren't meant to." Dark eyes peered carefully at the other man. "Leave it alone."

"Why the bloody hell should I? I'm not interested in playing games. Those dreams were driving me mad! Now, to have found him... Whatever the reason we separated before, I won't leave him again." Hating how melodramatic the words sounded, Wesley sighed. "You simply don't understand the connection that-"

"You're wrong. I understand. He's here for his own safety, and-"

Wesley's eyes narrowed. "You knew I'd find the boy here. You know who he is!"

The vampire looked away. "He's my son."

"You can't be... You're serious?"

"I can't explain now, but you don't remember. He was... confused. Dangerous. If I hadn't done it... there's no telling what might have happened."

"You've taken our memories. You had no right!" At the sound of the door opening, some of Wesley's righteous indignation faded. "Connor..."

"Is it true? Is what you said true?" Bright blue eyes bored into Angel's. "Are you my father?" It made some sort of perverse sense that a familiar stranger might be the key to all of his confusion.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you... ask me?" The young man looked to Wesley as if desperate to prove his loyalty somehow after the revelation. "I wouldn't have left." 

"You tried to kill yourself and take a department store full of people with you," Angel challenged. "Whatever happened between you and Wesley-"

"We were lovers." Wesley leaned back heavily against the counter. "I remember enough to know that."

The vampire flinched briefly. "I kind of guess that. But it wasn't enough. You were falling apart, Connor. The only solution was to give you another change, a new life, a fresh start."

"I still remember it all when I dream. It's all blood and monsters and nightmares except when I dream about Wesley. I know it was good. I know that there must have been something..." Visibly confused, Connor let his words trail away. "I want him to stay."

"My place his here, Angel. For whatever reason, we both remember this." Wesley felt the tentative pressure of Connor's hand in his. "I don't want to forget again."

Angel gazed sadly at the pair for several moments. "Maybe this time I should." Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room.

Wesley felt Connor's eyes on him and looked back to the boy. "It won't' be easy. We can't tell anyone, can't get caught together until you're old enough that they'll understand-"

"I know. I'm seventeen. My parents..." the words gave him pause, but Connor soon pushed forward, "won't understand. But it's my decision."

"And you're mine. My beautiful boy." Wesley leaned down and brushed his lips against Connor's. "It's no wonder I couldn't forget you."


End file.
